Entropy
by HeadlessFatSwansInLove
Summary: With bounty hunters, including Tamsin, in hot pursuit, Lauren races to gather the shattered pieces of her life into some semblance of safety. My take on season four. Picks up immediately at the end of 3.13 Those Who Wander.
1. Madness

**CHAPTER 1**

**Madness**

_Intellectual despair results in neither weakness nor dreams, but in violence. It is only a matter of knowing how to give vent to one's rage; whether one only wants to wander like madmen around prisons, or whether one wants to overturn them.  
__ -Georges Bataille_

It was madness.

After releasing Dyson, who dealt swiftly with the guards in the room, and giving him a very hurried explanation of what she'd done, Lauren sent him to find Bo and stop Taft. The fae were many things, and she had seen the good and the bad, but they were living beings who did not deserve the misery Taft had visited upon them with his research. She told herself her role in ending Taft was for the greater good, and as she'd done with so many things in her life, she'd learn to live with her guilt over it.

From the surgery, she made her way back to the holding cells, only to find the scene in an uproar. Someone, most likely Bo, had opened all the doors to the holding cells, and the captives were now making their way out of the facility. She spotted two of the guards lying dead, their weapons beside them, victims of fae feeds. Her first instinct was to rush in and offer assistance, but she held herself in check. Lauren knew that the weak, injured, and hungry fae were a danger to her. Had they still been in their holding cells she could've offered assistance without risking her own life. Instead, she was forced to stay put, watching through the observation monitors in the clean room. It was probably unwise of her to linger, she realized, but she couldn't leave until she was sure everyone was going to get to safety. It just didn't seem right, even as it put her in more danger. Two burly male fae, their arms and necks covered with deep and barely healed cuts, were gently helping another male fae whose lower leg had been…Lauren could only guess that it had been torn off. It was a miracle he was still alive. She didn't recognize the fae assisting him, but the care with which they moved the injured fae told her he would be taken to safety. They were the last to clear out of the holding cell area.

Once satisfied that everyone was out of the immediate area, she made her way back to the prep room to pick up the bag of supplies she'd surreptitiously thrown together while preparing for surgery. She was operating on auto-pilot now; her body was executing the plan she'd devised in the last few hours while her mind systematically sifted through options for the next several steps. 'Escape and regroup,' she told herself grimly. There was no time for feelings. Right now, she needed to get to Taft's study. She pulled out two injection pens, and slipped one into her pocket, holding the other ready in her hand should she need it. Most of the fae were gone, but she had no doubt Taft's guards had orders to take her into custody, either as a prisoner or to escort her to safety, she wasn't sure. Most had probably already fled, but she knew there'd be a few very loyal ones who would carry out his orders no matter what.

There were files she needed to collect, information on the extent of Taft's research and findings. He'd insisted on her writing up the procedure, of course, and she had complied. She'd just simply left out three crucial steps and included misinformation on several others in the document in case it fell into the wrong hands. It would take an expert years to work out the deliberate errors. The real procedure was in her head where it would stay until the day she died.

Hopefully, Taft had kept all the information in house while they finalized the procedure. It was a good bet, given what an egomaniac he had been. Lauren was certain he would've wanted to retain control over the whole operation until it was perfected, then parcel it out to whoever could pay his price. But, if the information was at his corporate headquarters, things were going to get ugly for the fae. They'd hunt the fae mercilessly and exploit them for their DNA.

Lauren couldn't worry about that now; she'd have to cross that bridge if and when she came to it. Right now, she could only contain those parts of this operation that she could access. And to do that, she had to get to Taft's study.

Lauren was under no delusions about her situation. She was in a tremendous amount of trouble. She knew the fae were after her. Taft had reminded her that she was AWOL, and that they wouldn't look kindly upon what had happened here and her role in it. They would demand that the Ash punish someone, and she'd be the easiest scapegoat available, regardless of her innocence or Dyson's words on her behalf. And there was the human end of things to consider as well. It was hard to know how much the board of Taft's conglomerate knew, but Lauren was certain someone in the organization knew about her and would want answers.

When she stepped into Taft's office, it was empty, save for Suneetha lying on the floor, barely alive, the trademark grin of a succubus kill marring her features. With a pang of regret, she ran to her and checked desperately for her pulse, which was weak and thready. Yet another person she'd failed, she thought. There was nothing Lauren could do for her, and after a few moments Suneetha died in her arms. Lauren gently closed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, wondering sadly what would become of her children now that both their parents were dead. She wasn't sure who had killed Suneetha, but figured it had to be Bo or Aife.

The real person to blame, of course, was Taft as the person who had orchestrated this whole, terrible circumstance. But, as much as she might want to, Lauren couldn't hate him. She felt sorry for him. He was as much a victim as anyone else, driven mad by the knowledge of the fae. That, combined with his brilliant intellect was an almost certain recipe for disaster. Had things gone just slightly differently _she_ could have been Isaac. Sometimes she wondered if she'd really gotten this far without completely losing her sanity, or if she was operating in a state of perpetual delusion. In any case, but for only slightly different circumstances she might've been the one perverting science to exact vengeance instead of the one trying to put a stop to it.

It didn't take long for Lauren to locate the hard copies of Taft's files. She also scooped up his laptop and tucked it into her bag with the files. Next, she set about distributing the chemicals and other supplies she'd taken from the surgical storeroom to start a fire that would burn hot enough to destroy practically everything in the room. While she thought she'd taken everything worth taking she couldn't run the risk of anything hidden, so her best bet was to destroy the room as best she could, to delay them if nothing else.

Too late, she whirled, fumbling in her pocket for the injection pen that she knew would do her no good as footsteps pounded just outside. A guard burst through the door, rifle up and ready as he stood and tensely scanned the room before his eyes fell on her. For a moment, Lauren's heart stopped as he aimed his weapon at her.

After a moment, however, he lowered it. "Doctor Lewis," he said, almost sighing with relief. He stepped into the room and looked around, his eyes passing briefly over the dead cabbitt on the floor. "Please come with me. The fae have escaped from their holding cells. Dr. Taft left orders for you to be escorted to a safe place if there was a security breach."

Lauren started to breathe again. "What's your name?" she asked, nodding.

"Tom, ma'am," he said. He was young, she thought as her chest tightened at the sight of him. He was no more than twenty-five at best. And he looked very scared as his hands fiddled nervously with his weapon. She could save him, save this one. It wouldn't make up for helping put Taft into an early grave or failing to keep her promise to Suneetha, but Lauren had to believe it would count for something, tip the scales of however the universe was keeping score of her sins slightly back in her favor. If she pretended to cooperate long enough to get him away from this place, she could save him, she thought. But to do that she needed to make sure he didn't see her as a threat, or see her actions suspicious.

"Would you help me here, Tom?" Lauren asked, softly. "We need to destroy this room in case there's anything we don't want the authorities to find."

He nodded, his eyes widening with understanding. Certain guards knew what had been going on here, she knew. Tom was used to following orders, and for all he knew she really was Taft's second in command. She would use that to her advantage. Shouldering his weapon, he followed her directions, helping her distribute the combustive materials around the room. Lauren set up the trigger and timed it to ignite in approximately one minute. Even the best fae or human analysts would be unable to make anything out of the residue. She regretted that she had to leave Suneetha behind to be cremated, but she didn't have a choice. Her window of opportunity to leave this place was rapidly closing, even with Tom's presence providing cover. Assuming both Dyson and Bo had managed to escape, and there was every indication that they had, it was only a matter of time before other people showed up. She needed to be well on her way before that happened.

Once the room was set to go up, Tom led her out into the corridor, motioning for her to stay behind him as he checked that the way was clear. They made their way to an outer building without incident, and Lauren saw some of the formerly captive fae making their way toward a tree line along the edge of the property. None of them paid any attention to her or Tom.

Tom got behind the wheel of one of the black SUVs parked outside the facility. Lauren climbed in next to him, and they pulled out onto the service road leading away from Taft's facility. It was a narrow, dusty road with a field on one side and thick woods on the other. Taft had chosen his location well, she thought. They were close enough to gather fae specimens but far enough away from too much developed land to be bothered by the curious. Though Taft had kept up a constant stream of chatter during the limo ride that first brought her here, out of habit she'd made note of the surrounding area, and had been shocked to realize she'd been called out to examine a fae kill along this road several years ago. No one had thought much about it at the time, assuming it was a feed from an underfae passing through the area. Lauren wondered how many fae had died out here, in pain, over the years.

"Where are we going?" Lauren asked, attempting to push those grim thoughts away.

"Doctor Taft's corporate offices in town," he said. "Don't worry, you'll be safe. I'll protect you until we get there," he added. Lauren smiled slightly at him and nodded. He was so young and earnest that she felt a little bad about the fact that she was going to render him unconscious in a few minutes. If he was smart, when he awoke he'd find himself a new line of work. She hoped so, anyway, she thought, stealing another glance at him.

She would make her way to Taft's headquarters eventually, but in her own time and on her own terms. And hopefully she'd be in a position to do some good for both the human and the fae worlds through them.

Once they were nearly ten miles from Taft's, Lauren decided it was time to make her move. "Tom, could you pull over for a moment, please." She kept her voice even and fixed him with a calm look. Her voice carried an unmistakable note of authority, but with no threat. It was a skill she'd honed for years working with the fae. Running the clinic, she had to issue instructions, yet never lose sight of the fact that she was a mere human among them. So she learned to temper her voice and demeanor.

"What?" he said, turning to look at her in alarm.

"There's something I need to do, and I can't do it in a moving vehicle. It'll keep the fae from tracking us until we can get to safety. Just pull up over there, please." She pointed to a turnoff just ahead. "It'll just take a moment."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Tom said, but guided the vehicle to the side of the road. Lauren slipped out of the SUV with her bag before he could change his mind. "I'll need your help," she said over her shoulder. "Leave the engine running, just in case," she added.

Tom dutifully came around to her side, his weapon held nervously in his hands again. Spying a small copse of trees a few yards in, she began walking toward it, Tom trailing in her wake. As they walked, Lauren reassured him. "You probably know that most fae hunt by tracking pheromones. Most fae bounty hunters have an incredibly powerful sense of smell, hundreds of times more sensitive than even dogs," she said. "So we'll need to mask the way we smell." Everything she was telling him was actually true; it was the reason why she'd had to mask her identity using skunk ape odor while undercover at Hecuba Prison.

As they approached the trees, Lauren held her bag out for him to hold. He fumbled with his weapon for a second, then dutifully took the bag, trying to safely juggle both for a second. While he was distracted Lauren pulled out one of the injection pens from her pocket and stabbed him in the neck with it. It worked almost instantaneously, and Lauren staggered slightly as she caught him, lowering him gently to the ground. The grass here was tall enough that he would not be found unless someone decided to take a walk through the fields, and the trees would provide adequate shade from the sun for the better part of the day. She rolled him onto his side and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He didn't have much cash and she wouldn't be able to use his credit or bank cards without being tracked, so she left them behind.

Tucking the $127 he had into her pocket, she rose. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of his weapon, and for a moment she could not tear her eyes away from where it lay in the dirt beneath the trees. For a moment, just a moment, she was back in Afghanistan, her senses overloaded with dust and wind and the smell of blood and gunpowder, looking at another gun sitting in the dust with a small hand lying palm up next to it. Feeling nauseous, Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head roughly, willing the images away. She did not have time for this.

She didn't need the weapon; she knew with every fiber of her being that she could never point it at someone and pull the trigger, even to save her own life. But it didn't feel right leaving it lying in the middle of an empty field where it could be picked up by someone either. The only responsible thing to do was to take it and dispose of it later when she had a chance. She reached down and gingerly picked it up, making sure the safety was on before removing the magazine. In Afghanistan she'd realized that it was a good idea to know how to handle a weapon should one end up in her hands at some point. Putting it on the floor behind her and dropping her jacket over it, Lauren got behind the wheel of the SUV.

Without a backward glance, she drove off in a cloud of dust.


	2. Betrayal

**CHAPTER 2**

**Betrayal**

_Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love._

_-John le Carre_

It was quiet here, Tamsin thought. Peaceful, even. She'd walked the better part of the night to find just the right tree in the right field, missing her wrecked truck every step of the way. The bottles in the plastic bags she carried clinked together as she set them down on the ground and took a seat. The sun was just rising. By her reckoning, she had enough whiskey with her to see her through two or three sunrises, and that suited her just fine. Her only immediate plan was to drink herself into a stupor until it was time to go out and find more whiskey so she could repeat the process. She reached into the bag closest to her and pulled out a bottle, unscrewed the top and took a sip. Maybe in a few days she'd find some biker bar to take over. There was sure to be one out here somewhere. In the meantime, she'd sit here in the hot sun, with the smell of dirt and grass filling her nose and concentrate on feeling nothing.

A few hours later, she was a third of the way through the bottle when she heard it. There was a road a good ways back from where she sat. She knew this because she'd walked along it hours ago, her steps lit only by moonlight. It looked little used though, more like a set of parallel dirt tracks with weeds growing up the middle, which is why she'd decided to follow it. But right now, there was someone driving along it. Someone with a shitty car in desperate need of a tune up by the sound of it, she thought, taking another swallow from the bottle in her hand. Whoever it was was just passing through, she told herself. The annoying engine sound would fade off into the distance in a trail of dust soon enough. Tamsin leaned her head back against the rough bark and closed her eyes.

The sound did go away, but instead of tapering off with distance it ended abruptly as the engine was cut off, followed by the slamming of a car door and the sound of someone walking through the tall grass of the field. They were heading in her direction, she knew, and she had a pretty good idea, without looking, who it was. "Shit," she muttered.

A shadow fell across her as Bo stepped into view. Tamsin ignored her in favor of another long pull from the bottle. Maybe if she ignored this bitch she'd take the hint and go away.

"Tracking spell," Bo said simply, then took a seat beside her.

Tamsin didn't really care. "Lucky me," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She didn't offer Bo a drink, and she certainly wasn't going to ask Bo what the hell she was doing here. They'd parted company with barely two words to each other in the blown out Dal yesterday. She'd slipped away while the succubus was searching frantically for her phone. It was clear, however, that Tamsin hadn't put enough distance between herself and the succubus. She'd rectify that in a few minutes, once she finished this bottle.

"I need you to find Lauren," Bo said, without preamble. How like her, Tamsin thought, just showing up out of the blue and demanding things. And to be asked to find Bo's human lover when she… Tamsin bit that thought off before it could go any further. She didn't need any reminders about the situation.

"Get Dyson to do it," Tamsin said, scowling. Let Bo's _other_ lover go find her missing one, she thought.

"I can't. He's in Scotland, tracking down Trick," Bo said. "You're all I've got."

"Too bad for you, then." Tamsin tilted the bottle up and drained the last few swallows. Time to get moving.

"I've tracked Kenzi to a town up north. Hale and I need to get to her before she does something stupid," Bo explained. "I can't be in two places at once."

"Guess bff trumps girlfriend every time," Tamsin said, rolling her eyes. "But then, what else is new? I'm sure Doctor Frankenbitch is used to coming in last by now."

Bo turned her face away as if slapped. "Don't call her that," she admonished. "I'd go after her if I could," she added defensively. "As soon as I collect Kenzi I'll join you."

Glaring at Bo, Tamsin tossed the now empty bottle away with more force than was necessary. It sailed off into the distant treeline and smashed somewhere against a rock. "No," she said, taking a perverse pleasure in refusing to help Bo. She pulled out another bottle.

"Look, Lauren is out there, alone," Bo insisted, her voice breaking. "With both the light and dark after her. You're a bounty hunter and a police detective, which means you can find her before they do. You have to find her before they get to her, Tamsin."

"I don't have to do anything except sit here and drink," Tamsin replied. Bo had a lot of balls even asking in the first place. She knew how Tamsin felt, about all they'd just been through with Taft, with Bo's father, and about how Tamsin felt about her. She'd lost control and exposed her feelings, even though she'd fought them with all her strength. And here was Bo, looking so beautiful and being so obliviously cruel. It made her angry and resentful, and that was so much better than the revolting feelings of love and affection she was trying to burn away with liquor. "That bitch needs to be put down, we both know it," she added, noting the way Bo winced with no small amount of pleasure. She wanted to hurt Bo now. Hurt her simply for being Bo. Hurt her for the way the succubus made her feel. Lauren was as convenient a method to achieve that as anything right now.

In fact, something dawned on Tamsin. A way to really wound Bo, destroy her even, if she wanted to. She realized she could do as Bo asked. Find the human, tell Bo she'd found her, and then turn the bitch over to the dark fae. The Morrigan would love that. There'd be nothing Bo could do to save the doctor once she was in Evony's clutches. She'd have to watch her human lover be punished, watch as she was put to death, most likely in some slow and tortuous way. Lauren was human, nothing to her but an easy sacrifice to achieve an even greater end. Maybe even a literal end. Because, if she did this, and if she was very lucky, Bo would kill her for it, and all this misery would be over and done with. Betrayal was a very small price to pay for that release, Tamsin thought, especially if it came at Bo's hand. There was something fitting, poetic almost, to the whole scenario. It was so beautiful and perfect it almost took her breath away.

But, she'd have to be careful, to make it look like changing her mind wasn't too easy all of a sudden or Bo would become suspicious. The succubus trusted her, gods only knew why after everything. But she could use Bo's trusting and naive nature against her this one last time. It would serve her right.

"Tamsin, please. I need your help. I know you're hurt and angry after everything we've been through, but I do still trust you. I trust you with Lauren's life."

Tamsin almost laughed in delight. Bo was begging, this was even better than she'd hoped. The succubus must truly be desperate, she thought, and was using her special brand of cruel sincerity to get her way. Tamsin pretended to ponder the issue, allowed Bo to think her plea was working, and made sure to huff a few times at the succubus in between long draughts from the bottle, before sighing in exasperation. "What's in it for me?" she asked, deciding it might be fun to see how far the succubus would be willing to go.

Relief washed over Bo's face. This was all really too easy, Tamsin thought. "My undying gratitude?" Bo asked, with a hopeful grin.

"Not good enough," Tamsin said with a shake of her head. "You owe me that already."

Bo snorted at that, but didn't argue. "A future favor then," she said, as if the matter were settled. "A big one."

Again, Tamsin shook her head, smirking now.

"What's it going to take, Tamsin?" Bo asked, standing. "Name it, already. I need to get going."

Tamsin tilted her head back and looked at the succubus for several long moments. "A night in your bed," she finally said. "With you. Anything I want." Time to see how far the succubus would go. "Anything," she added, meaningfully. Hell, maybe she'd give Lauren to Bo just for that, once she found the human, if Bo agreed to it.

Bo was offended, she could see. It was so ironic that a creature that lived off sexual energy could have such misguided notions about sex, Tamsin thought.

"Is this a joke?" Bo asked, her lip curling in disgust.

"Nope," Tamsin said. "That's my price. Take it or leave it. It's not negotiable."

Tamsin watched, fascinated as Bo's expression hardened before her eyes, despising her more with each passing second. She looks so much like her father right now, Tamsin thought, that she very nearly wanted to take her offer back, fighting the instinctive urge to serve.

"A one night stand? Seriously?"

Tamsin laughed. "It's just sex," she said. "Isn't that what you do? You should be happy I'm letting you off so easy, because this job is going to be a pain in the ass."

Bo's expression was still angry, but there was something else in her eyes. "But it wouldn't be just sex, would it?" she asked. "We both know there'd be more to it for you. It's a bad idea, Tamsin."

"You fuck people all the time to get what you want," Tamsin said accusingly. "Can't stand a little of your own medicine? Or is it too much like Lauren's little 'spy bang' for you?"

She was getting to Bo, she could see, possibly going too far, as the succubus took a sharp breath and stiffened. "That was different. And between Lauren and me," she said.

"And Kenzi, and Dyson, and Vex, and the whole fucking world," Tamsin spat.

"Fine," she said. For a moment, Tamsin thought she was agreeing to her terms, but then Bo turned and walked away. "Be an asshole. I'll find Lauren without your help."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Tamsin called after her. "I know the people they've sent after her. Most of them are idiots, but there are one or two who'll find her." Bo continued walking, and Tamsin began to panic, realizing she'd pushed too hard. "And they'll be sure to have a little fun with her before they drag her skinny ass back to Evony. If you know what I mean."

Bo stopped, and stood stiffly for a few minutes, her hands clenched at her sides. "What is your problem?" she screamed, clearly angry and frustrated. Bo whirled and stalked back toward Tamsin. "I'm sick of your shit. Whatever your fee is, I'll pay it, but I'm not sleeping with you. Ever. I thought we were starting to become friends, that you cared. But I guess I was wrong." She glanced down and saw a full bottle that had rolled out of one of the bags. Bo reached down and picked it up. "Go back to your pity party," she said, tossing the bottle at Tamsin, who instinctively caught it, with more force than was necessary, enough for a slight shock of pain to travel through Tamsin's hand. "I've got things to do."

"It's always about you, isn't it," she said. She pretended to be defeated, to reel this bitch in so she could get on with her fun.

"No, this is about Lauren," Bo said.

"Bullshit," Tamsin snorted. "I'll find her. I give you my word. Pro bono, even. And maybe someday you'll grow up and stop acting like your shit doesn't stink."

"Hey, my shit stinks plenty," Bo said indignantly, then stopped. They stared at each other for a moment, before Tamsin burst into laughter. "I can't believe you just said that," Tamsin said, almost falling over. Bo tried to glare at her, but when Tamsin didn't stop, she finally gave in, collapsing next to Tamsin. They sat there giggling in the mid-morning sun, with several sacks of whiskey bottles strewn around them, for several minutes.

_It could be like this,_ a quiet, traitorous voice inside of Tamsin said. _You don't have to do this terrible thing. You could be part of them, part of her, instead. Even if she never feels for you a fraction of what you feel for her you could still be near her, touch her and see her and hear her. You could pretend to feel alive when you're with her. _ Ruthlessly, Tamsin stilled that voice. It would never be enough, she reminded herself. It would be torture, to be around her, to pretend to be happy while hiding this sickening feeling of love that welled up in her throat every time she looked at the woman, suffocating her. No, Bo needed to pay for making her feel anything for anyone in the first place, most of all these misplaced feelings of love. If brutally snuffing out Lauren's life would rid her of this, then the sooner she got on with it the better. There was no backing out now. She wouldn't allow herself that luxury.

After a few moments, they sobered. "What if she doesn't want to be found? Nobody forced her to run away," Tamsin said. "She made that choice."

Bo turned away and contemplated the trees in the distance. "Just find her," she said quietly. "I don't want to make her do anything she doesn't want to do. I just need to talk to her."

"Should've tried that before she ran away," Tamsin said, getting to her feet. That didn't get a reaction out of Bo, but she did continue to stare off into the woods, her expression troubled. Tamsin was almost disappointed.

"Just… Just be careful, Tamsin. Don't underestimate Lauren. She's scary smart, and she knows a lot about the fae."

She knows too much about the fae for a human, Tamsin thought. She understood why both sides were after the doctor; she could do some serious damage if she wanted. But Tamsin didn't think the human had the stomach for violence, she was probably cringing in a hole somewhere, alone and afraid. "Please, she may be Doctor Perfect to you, but to me she's just another pathetic human," Tamsin said dismissively.

"And, she doesn't like you very much," Bo added.

"The feeling's mutual," Tamsin said. After saying that Lauren had to die it was probably the most truthful thing she'd said to Bo this whole conversation. "I need a ride back to town," she added, wiping her hands off on the back of her jeans. She reached down and snagged the handles of her plastic bags.

Bo shook her head. "I'm heading in the opposite direction, and I don't have time to chauffeur you around," she said, stalking off through the tall grass toward the road.

"Bitch," Tamsin called after Bo's retreating back, though she'd have probably done the same thing.

"I'm sure you can manage," Bo said over her shoulder with a smile. "Find her, Tamsin. Keep her safe until I get there," she added.

Tamsin watched the leather-clad figure walk through the grass to the yellow shit heap she called a car. "Oh, I'll find her, all right," she whispered. "As for keeping her safe, well…" Tamsin tracked the car as Bo drove off in a cloud of dust. If she couldn't have Bo's heart, Tamsin thought, her expression hardening, she'd turn it to ash by destroying the one who did.

But first, she needed to steal a car.


	3. Acquaintance

**CHAPTER 3**

**Acquaintance**

_Experience is the wisdom that enables us to recognize in an undesirable old acquaintance the folly that we have already embraced._

—Ambrose Bierce

The mirror was filthy, Lauren noted. Then again, at an establishment such as this, a grubby gas station in the middle of nowhere, it was probably too much to expect competent housekeeping. The middle part of the mirror had been wiped down with a dirty cloth, leaving streaks behind, and there was a disgusting filmy residue built up in the corners and around the edges. That combined with the lighting from the single cheap light fixture on the ceiling gave Lauren a rather sickly appearance as she stared at herself. She looked like a stranger, she thought. No make up, hair tied back, and dark circles beneath her eyes made her look old and haggard.. Reaching up, she ran the lank ends of her hair through her fingers, wondering if she should get it cut, or color it to disguise herself. Dropping her hand, she just stared at her face, remembering how it had taken her nearly three years before she'd been able to look in the mirror and not see Karen Beattie.

Dropping her eyes, she stopped up the drain in the small sink, and filled it with hot water. The thought of a shower was overwhelming, but she couldn't afford a hotel room. She needed to keep moving, anyway. She stripped to the waist and carefully hung her shirt and bra on the hook on the back of the door. Using a rough washcloth she'd picked up at a dollar store she scrubbed a day's worth of grime and the road off of her face and neck and arms. The cloth came away gray and made the water murky when she rinsed it out. She refilled the sink and scrubbed herself again, before applying the oil she'd cobbled together. While she couldn't completely mask her smell, she could make the trail confusing enough fairly easily. It wasn't foolproof, but she hadn't exactly had a lot of time to get a field kit together, either. She needed to find some new clothes, and soon, she thought with a grimace as she slipped back into her bra and shirt.

Sticking mainly to backroads, Lauren drove for several hours, stopping again only once, in another small town. She made a stop at the library to do a few quick internet searches, then bought a map and a cup of coffee at a tiny convenience store on the outskirts. The coffee was foul but she forced herself to drink it while she sat at a picnic table and planned out her route. Derek was a huge gamble, she knew. He always left a trail of crumbs if you knew where to look, and over the years she'd surreptitiously kept track of them in case she ever needed to ever make a hasty exit from the fae. It hadn't taken her long to find his usual markers, so she typed out a quick email containing a few codewords to an address she hoped was still being monitored. Assuming he was where she thought he was and she could get there without being caught there was every chance he'd blow her head off the minute she pulled up if she caught him by surprise. They hadn't had a bad relationship all those years ago, but he was twitchy and paranoid, and spent a lot of time creating little dramas in his head.

But like all of the people in the group, he had his own particular genius, and his was paper trails. Creating them, following them, disrupting them, whatever the situation called for. Right now she needed a new identity. It wouldn't be as thorough as Lauren Lewis, since she'd used up her inheritance on that. And when her money ran out, the fae took care of whatever gaps were left in her credentials. This one would be quick and dirty; the fae had kept her reasonably well enough, but she'd had no salary and therefore no savings to draw on. But she needed the new identity only long enough to make a stop at Taft's corporate headquarters before heading to Europe. If things went as planned, Lauren Lewis would re-emerge, completely exonerated of any crime.

If things went as planned.

In case Derek wasn't where she thought he was she'd head as far north as she could get on her meager resources. There were small hunting enclaves sprinkled all through the wilderness up there, and many were likely empty this time of year. She could shelter there for awhile, regroup, and figure out how to put her plan into action without Derek. It would be considerably more difficult, but not impossible.

Climbing back into the SUV she set out once more. The roads were mostly clear of traffic, and the monotony made her mind drift toward thoughts of Bo and all that had happened. She ruthless clamped down on them, however, shoving them into the back of her mind. To distract herself she began cataloging all that she'd learned at Taft's. And she'd learned a lot, enough from the few tests she'd done, and the final transplant to do a lot of good in this world.

And she intended to use it. Whatever mistakes she'd made in her life, whatever bad choices, she'd more than paid for them. Nadia was dead, and there was nothing that would ever change that. But Bo at least was safe; she'd done what she could and trusted Bo to do the rest, just like always.

Tears blurred her vision, and Lauren hastily scrubbed at her eyes. She didn't have time for this, she told herself sternly. Bo was safe, and that was what was important. She was alive, and she would move on. Lauren had a different mission now, she knew. And while it might allow her to enter into Bo's orbit again in the future, Lauren knew things between them would never be the same.

Lauren drove for several hours after the sun went down, then carefully pulled the SUV off to the side of the road in a heavily wooded area. While she couldn't really spare the time, she needed to get at least a few hours of sleep, so she leaned back and tried to relax, closing her eyes. Nights were always the worst. During the day she could turn it all off, compartmentalize everything and function with almost robotic-like precision. It was a skill she'd refined and perfected during her years with the fae that allowed her to exist among them even with all the lingering fear and guilt. But at night her carefully constructed barriers began to weaken.

It was usually Nadia who came to her then, and in those brief moment Lauren could hear the whisper of Nadia's warm hands against her skin, be cradled in her scent. She had been deeply in love with Nadia, and her willingness to give herself to the fae had been an act of love as much as it had been of guilt. Somewhere over the five years, the love had faded, as Nadia had laid there, unmoving, unchanging. All that had been left by the time Bo showed up was the guilt, and she'd managed to push even that into a tiny little box in the corner of her mind that she allowed out only late at night, to keep her up.

She willed her body to relax, but every sound from the forest around her set her on edge. And her stomach rumbled queasily, the roadside burger she'd wolfed down hours ago long since digested. She knew that when she fell asleep she'd likely go right into REM sleep, since she'd barely slept for several days. Cat naps here and there, and what dreams she'd had weren't pleasant. Bo or Nadia were in nearly all of them. Lauren tried counting her breaths.

_She was in the surgery at Isaac's facility, and he was there with her, touching her shoulders and her hair, and leaning in too close to her face. She tried to pull away, but he grabbed her elbow and led her over to a surgical table. He was talking to her, but his voice was loud, too loud, and it echoed, and she couldn't understand him. There was someone lying on the table, and Lauren knew, even before he pulled the bloodstained sheet back that it was Bo. She couldn't help herself from moving forward, and stared down into Bo's still face, watch the shallow rise and fall of her chest._

"_She tried to escape," Isaac told her. "The guards had to stab her. See?" Lauren looked down and saw Bo's knife sticking out of her abdomen, in exactly the same place Nadia had been stabbed. She knew Bo was going to die soon, not even a fae as strong as Bo could survive such a catastrophic wound. Then, he put a large syringe into her hands. "There isn't much time. Her DNA is still good, but you need to extract it now. You'll be a succubus," he said, leering at her. "My succubus." Isaac held her hands, lifted them and shifted the syringe around so that she could plunge it into Bo's exposed hip, just like she had Dyson. _

_She wanted this, she realized, as Isaac stepped away from her. She wanted it, she needed it. Nothing could save Bo now, but Bo could live on through her. Forever. With one last look at Bo's beautiful face, Lauren raised the needle above her head and prepared to strike…_

Lauren shot up from where she was slouched in the seat, slamming her knee into the steering wheel column hard enough to bring tears of pain to her eyes. Her heart was pounding, and she was coated in a clammy sheen of perspiration. Every muscle in her body rigid, Lauren grabbed the bag from the seat next to her and frantically pulled out a small vial of powder, clutching it to her chest as she listened intently. Someone was outside, she was sure of it. That must've been what woke her up, she thought, even as another, more rational part of her mind told her she'd just had a nightmare. She held her breath, expecting the door or window to burst in any second, but there was only the sound of crickets all around her. After several minutes that felt like hours, she exhaled several times, stuffed the vial back into the bag, and got out of the car. The night air was cool, and helped to clear her head as she limped slowly back and forth, stretching her cramped muscles. On the horizon, just above the trees, she could see the faintest traces of the rising sun along the clouds stretched across the sky.

* * *

It was time to get moving, again.

"Well, well," Derek said, pointing a shotgun at her. He'd been waiting for her, she knew as she pulled up to his house. Derek lived in a small single-story ranch house set back quite a distance from the road and hidden by a tall fence. From the windows out front she knew he could see anyone coming up the driveway. No doubt he had cameras up all over, too, and motion detectors.

He was more grizzled than she remembered, had a bigger pot belly than before, but the same irritated scowl on his face. "What hole have you been hiding in for the last eight years?" he asked as she stepped out of the SUV and stood next to it, her hands in plain sight.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Lauren said. She wasn't entirely certain Derek wouldn't shoot her on the spot.

"Knowing you, you're probably right," he said. "What are you doing here, Karen?"

"Asking for a favor," she said, simply. Honesty had always worked best with him. He liked being the one to play head games, and didn't take kindly to people giving him the runaround.

Derek snorted. He didn't lower the barrel, but he was visibly more relaxed. "And what would that be?" he asked.

"Cash, bank account, identity documents, and a clean vehicle," she said.

"How about a solid gold stethoscope while I'm at it," he said sarcastically. "Cash and vehicle I can do right now. Identity…that'll take some time, and won't be fool proof. I can get you a driver's license and that's about it."

"I need a passport, too," she said. "How long?"

Derek thought for a moment. "Three days," he said. "Maybe four. And you stay here during."

Lauren had been expecting that, though she wasn't looking forward to it. Derek was a hoarder and the inside of his house was probably a disgusting firetrap.

"What name do you go by now?" he asked, though she suspected he already knew the answer.

"Karen will be fine," she said. "Maybe we could continue catching up without you pointing a loaded shotgun at me?"

He dropped the barrel of the gun until it was pointing at the ground. "Come on inside," he said.

Lauren followed him, and as she'd anticipated, the inside was a cluttered mess. "I was thinking about you the other day," he said, moving into his office, where several high end computers sprawled across three desks. The floor and bookshelves were piled with papers. And it smelled. He shuffled papers around on one stack, and finally pulled out two, holding them up. One was the email she'd sent yesterday. The other was a wanted poster, which he handed to her.

"You must've paid a lot for the Lauren Lewis identity," he said. "Says here you're wanted for several murders. Want to tell me what that's about?"

"Not really," Lauren said, crumpling the paper up and tossing it onto the floor.

"Right," Derek said. "I don't care, either. Those pigs deserve to die. Doesn't matter to me who pulled the trigger." Lauren didn't know whether to be offended that he thought her capable of murder, or relieved that he wasn't interested in questioning her further. "I just really want to know what I get out of this," he said, shifting a pile of folders from a chair to the floor so she could sit.

Lauren gingerly stepped over a large box full of phone books and sat down on the dusty kitchen chair he'd cleared for her. Since she'd known him he was always surrounded by paper. The few times they'd had to quickly clear out of a base of operations had been a nightmare because of him. He'd insisted on taking several heavy boxes of paper, and they'd complied because they were too afraid of what it would reveal about them if they left it for the authorities. She'd wondered at the time if it was just another way he had of controlling the group, but seeing him still surrounded by it now, she had to admit it was probably just part of his own personal pathology. In either case, it seemed foolish to her. Then again, she owned nothing but the clothes on her back and was asking him for help, so she wondered who was the bigger fool.

He rummaged through an overstuffed desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "You look like you could use this," he said tossing it to her.

"I have a couple of passwords for you," she said, twisting the cap off the bottle. "Back doors into pharmaceutical company databases." He'd wreak all kinds of havoc on the markets, she knew, and probably ultimately bring the companies down. That was fine with her; she'd chosen carefully from the list of companies Ash Pharmaceuticals had interest in. They would not be missed. He tried to pretend otherwise, but she knew she'd caught his interest.

"How much cash are we talking about?" he asked.

"Fifty thousand in cash to start," Lauren said without hesitating. "And five million in a bank account." Once he saw what she had to offer, he would realize she was letting him off easy. He'd make himself a millionaire a dozen times on the stock market with just one of the passwords she had for him.

"To start," he said sarcastically. "Those must be some amazing passwords."

Instead of answering, Lauren leaned forward and wrote a string of letters into the dust that coated the bookshelf next to his desk. Then, she sat back and took a sip from the bottle as Derek typed furiously on the computer for several minutes, until a familiar database popped up on the screen. She'd designed the interface the first year she'd been with the fae, and had meticulously created both a public database for the government, and a very well-hidden "fae eyes only" version. Unbeknownst to the Ash, she'd also created a third database outlining the company's shady doings without including the involvement of the fae. She'd thought of Derek at the time, and told herself it was just a little insurance policy, a little something for herself and Nadia that wouldn't send up red flags by revealing the fae should it come to that.

Derek was like a kid in a candy store, she thought, as he scrolled through several pages, a gleeful smile on his face. "How many of these do you have for me, Karen?" he asked, turning to fix her with a manic glare.

"Five million dollars worth," she said simply.

He searched her face carefully for several moments, then nodded. "I'll get started later tonight," he said, rising. "You earned yourself a little more than a quick identity," he added. "I'll show you where you can sleep and bring you something to eat. You'll have to stay put down there, and be quiet," he added over his shoulder as she followed him. "It's my week to host the science fiction book club."


End file.
